How I Learned to Speak My Name

And to think …

Ahem-Ahem-attention, please…lol, is anyone listening?

Recently, I was asked to tell my story. My story?

For a writing exercise, I encourage everyone to sit and examine this subject. Questions arise, many, dizzying questions, circling until paralyzed for those of us who not used to talking about themselves. I have never lavished a good yarn about me, never as an individual. I am a unique middle-aged woman described as quite boring, I honor that.

sunshine guest

In this life of mine, the definition of me was always defined by another. I was so and so’s sister, daughter, friend, later to become mother and wife. The single character living inside of me has always been the same but lived by the adage of don’t speak unless spoken to, seen and not heard, humble, not a braggart. I am a helper, a giver, a feeler, growing up—a crier. In this stage of my life, I…

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